All Chapters of Claimed By The Mafia Don: Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

Dante’s POVThe silence in the room was suffocating, heavy with the unspoken tension between Lucia and me. She had told me everything about her family, and the weight of the guilt she carried. But what struck me the most was her belief that it had been a robbery.I leaned back in my chair, my fingers tapping the rim of the glass. It was a lie. A cover-up. She didn’t know the truth, did she? Her father had lied to cover up his sins. She also had no idea that the man responsible for her mother and sister’s deaths was sitting right across from her.I cursed under my breath. How the hell had I ended up here? How had I ended up with her?I set the glass down, my fingers trembling slightly. My phone buzzed, a call coming through. I glanced at the screen, but before I could answer, the call dropped. Strange. I tried again, only to face the same problem.My mind instantly shifted to a darker place—there were too many eyes around. Too many people trying to undermine me.I gripped the phone, fr

Lucia’s POVI’d stayed longer at my father’s place than I’d planned. I wasn’t sure what Dante would think about my visit, but it didn’t matter. He had already been distant in his own way, his own fortress of secrets keeping me out. The trust I’d once felt between us was slipping through my fingers, and the weight of it pressed heavily on my chest.As I left my father’s place, the streets felt colder than usual. I hadn’t even made it a few blocks when a black van pulled over beside me. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, instinctively sensing danger. Before I could react, the van doors flew open, and three massive men in black masks grabbed me.I tried to scream, but one of them pressed a rough palm over my mouth. The other men seized my arms, forcing me into the van with brutal efficiency. My body fought, my heart racing, but the air inside the van was heavy with a strange smell—something strong and sickly-sweet. A few moments later, my vision blurred, and everything went black

Dante’s POV I couldn’t stop pacing. The question looped in my mind like a curse I couldn’t silence. There were only a handful of people alive who knew the truth about what happened that night. So how the fuck did she know? Then a name hit me like a blade to the gut. Gabriel. Of course. He was the only one who knew how it all went down. He’d been by my side since the beginning, back when blood meant currency and vengeance tasted like wine. He’d even helped turn me into the man I was. He must’ve told her. He had to be the masked man at the bunker. The rage I’d been trying to smother roared to life. I grabbed my coat, stormed out of the estate, and drove like a man possessed. The sharp corners of the city blurred as I pushed past every red light. By the time I reached Gabriel’s penthouse, my knuckles were white around the steering wheel. But he wasn’t there. “Where the hell is he?” I barked at his housekeeper, a woman who’d been around long enough to know not to lie to me. “H

Lucia’s POV***Flashback***We were back in Chicago for the summer holidays. I’d just gotten into another fight with my parents over Daniel, and this time I didn’t stick around to finish it. I stormed out of the house, grabbing my phone with trembling hands.Daniel picked up on the first ring.“Babe?” His voice was sleepy but alert. “What’s wrong?”“Can I come over?” I asked, already walking. “I just—need to get out of here.”“I’ll meet you halfway. Stay on the phone with me, okay?”He didn’t ask for details. He never did, not until I was ready.When I saw him under the streetlamp, I ran.He didn’t hesitate. He pulled me into his arms like I was something precious. Like I wasn’t full of rage and shame and disappointment. His hands moved up and down my back, steady and grounding.“Breathe,” he whispered into my hair. “I’ve got you.”We ended up at the beach, barefoot in the sand, the wind kissing salt into our skin. I told him everything. How my mother thought he wasn’t enough. How my

Lucia’s POV311 Edgewater Boulevard didn’t look like a place where answers lived.The building was old, bruised by time and neglect. The metal railing along the porch was rusted. Lights in the hallway flickered like they were clinging to life. But the door wasn’t locked.I slipped inside.I was told to “ask for M,” but what if it was a setup? The smell hit first—dust, cheap cologne, old electricity. A mess of wires, drives, and two crooked monitors were scattered across the desk. Whoever lived here didn’t believe in organization. Or safety.I spotted a folder on the desk, unlabeled, and a worn laptop sitting open in sleep mode. I tapped the spacebar.Locked.Of course.My chest tightened with panic. I didn’t have time.. What if someone caught me?I yanked open the desk drawer, rifled through pens, old receipts, nothing useful. Then I dropped to my knees and felt along the underside of the keyboard.Please. Please.My fingers grazed the edge of a sticky note. I pulled it off, squintin